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I unbutton the fly of my jeans as I watch her crawl in and plump her pillow before resting back and watching me strip down. I love the sudden loss of bleakness in her eyes. Now they’re shimmering. Much better. I slip in and roll onto my side, seizing her and arranging her back to my front, wrapping myself completely around her.
She’s safe. And it’s my mission to keep her that way.Chapter 19FIVE YEARS AGO
Their guests, Curtis and Hayley, were smiling brightly as Katrina made it up onto the deck. The nighttime air was heavy, a faint breeze teasing her loose hair as she made her way to the table. Jarrad stood, ever the gentleman, and pulled out his wife’s chair, kissing her cheek when she offered it in her usual way.
‘You look stunning, darling.’ His eyes shone with pride as she lowered to the chair and he took in her choice of dress – a black satin Versace piece with sleeves just past her elbows. Perfect. ‘Still chilly?’ he asked.
‘A little,’ Katrina confirmed, prompting Jarrad to hold out his hand. A moment later, his wife’s shawl was in his grasp, courtesy of their onboard butler. Flapping it out, he lay it across her shoulders.
‘Thank you.’ Katrina took the glass of water at her place and downed it all. ‘Apologies for keeping you waiting.’
Hayley reached across the table and patted Katrina’s hand, her bright-red hair falling over her shoulder. Katrina had liked her from the moment they were introduced seven years ago at a charity gala. It was Katrina’s third date with Jarrad. The first two were at the gallery she worked at, where Jarrad, tall and distinguished, had wandered in one day to buy a piece of art. He walked out with Katrina’s number, and though he was a little older than her, she was bowled over by his apparent love of art. She smiled at the memory of how Jarrad had swooped her off her feet with endless romantic gestures and extravagant gifts. How on their fourth date, he whisked her off to Paris because he knew she’d love to see the Banksy exhibition that was on for one weekend only. How he showered her with all the things she loved, and how he seemed to embrace her quirkiness. He was so easy to fall in love with.
Katrina’s secret smile faded as she glanced around their yacht. There was no time anymore for spur-of-the-moment trips to Paris. There was no time for her to paint and explore her own passions. There was only time to be Jarrad’s wife. When did it all change? She looked at her husband who was lowering himself to his chair, his bespoke suit pristine, every strand of his hair in place, and not a wrinkle on his forehead. A few months ago, Jarrad took her along to one of his appointments with his private doctor. Botox. Apparently, Jarrad decided Katrina was ready for it, too. She was too shocked at the time to say no. Her husband’s obsession with perfection was climbing as high as his bank balance.
‘No need to apologize,’ Hayley said, nudging Katrina from her thoughts.
‘None at all,’ Curtis chipped in, rolling his wine around his glass, coating the sides before taking a sip and moaning his approval. Of course the wine was good. Everything was good when you moved in the same circle as Jarrad Knight, and Curtis, being Jarrad’s long-serving, loyal right-hand man, certainly moved in Jarrad’s circle. ‘Chapoutier Ermitage l’Ermite Blanc,’ Curtis said on a sigh. ‘Damn, that’s divine.’ He toasted the air and grinned at Jarrad.
‘The year?’ Jarrad asked his friend, wanting specifics.
‘Twenty thirteen.’
‘Correct.’ He took a sip himself and rolled it around his mouth as Katrina watched, his eyes closing in bliss. She didn’t understand it; the wine that set her husband back four hundred pounds a bottle was terribly acidic, gave her rotten heartburn. Jarrad insisted on having the luxury wine with most meals. If it wasn’t available wherever they were going, he’d have it shipped. It was just another status symbol. Their wine cellar was jam-packed with the stuff.
‘I take it fish is on the menu.’ Just as Curtis uttered the words, a beautifully dressed lobster was placed in the centre of their table, and it was all Katrina could do not to decorate it with vomit. She urgently reached for her water again and chugged down another glass before taking her cloth napkin and patting at her dampening forehead.
‘Are you okay?’ Hayley asked, a worried frown marring her lovely face.
‘Katrina’s had a little too much sun, I think,’ Jarrad piped in. ‘She’ll be fine with a little wine.’ He looked at the butler and nodded, and a glass was immediately poured for his wife.
‘Thank you.’ Katrina took a discreet breath before she managed a tiny sip as her husband watched, forcing her lips not to twist as she swallowed. ‘Stunning.’ She smiled and set her glass down.
